Chapter 12: Bullets & Break-Ups

Sander continued to stare menacingly at the innkeeper. Francis returned the gaze with his own viciousness. It had been too long since he had his share of a fist fight.

“Stop!” Ash said, flinging himself among the group.

Sander and Kiara took a step backward. Francis looked at the young man with a sense of astonishment. The boy’s emotional swings had become taxing on his nerves.

“I’m sorry! This is all my fault.” Ash babbled to Francis. “Lewis didn’t mean it. Please, just let us go to our room.”

Brigid’s shoulders relaxed. She felt relieved that someone else was trying to alleviate the tension between the two men. Francis and Sander continued to glare at each other with smoldering rage. Kiara turned her back to the innkeepers. With her shoulder, she prodded Sander to disengage. He looked at her with a smidgen of disgust. He shrugged and took a step away from Francis. He decided not to fight the innkeeper -- at least, not right now.

Francis said nothing. He merely collected his suit jacket and left the main room.

“You should really watch yourself,” Brigid said to Sander.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” was his only response. He returned to the plate of food on the counter, snatching another yucca fry. “I’m taking this to the room.”

Brigid didn’t argue. She wanted a little moment of peace before Francis gave the go-ahead to open up the inn for the evening clientele. With the main room clean of body and blood, there was no reason to keep their doors shut any longer.

Ash, Sander, and Kiara entered into their rented room. While not as bad as Ash expected, the room lacked a sense of homeliness that he expected. Inside, there were three metal cots with thin mattresses. They were arranged in a semi-circle. Sander sat on the cot nearest the door. He placed his bag onto the side table that rested in the corner of the room. He began to unpacked. Meanwhile, Kiara kicked off her boots and sat upon her cot cross-legged, observing Sander.

Ash took the middle cot. He didn’t know what to say or do. He just sat and looked about. The walls of the room were like the rest of the inn: a haphazard combination of repurposed wood and corrugated iron. At the foot of his bed, his semi-manual rifle was propped against the corner of the room. Sander had left his bag there as well. Ash wished he had another pair of clothes. The clothing he was wearing needed a good clean. It had become crusted with sweat and dirt and all other bits of nastiness. He touched his knees, feeling the mixture of water and blood cling to the fabric of his pants. He rummaged through his canvas bag. He knew he had nothing to change into, but kept looking. There was little more than his mostly-loaded submachine gun inside of it. Disappointed, he tossed the bag back into the corner.

“So, Kiara, what did you manage to sell?” Sander asked.

“Pretty much everything,” she said, taking a handful of the rabbit and fries. “Some guy even paid me two junk rounds for those mirrored-glasses we found in the side table.”

“You managed to hawk the jackets?” Sander asked. He picked up the side table and placed it in the middle of the semi-circle.

“Yessir,” she said with a mouthful. “Nobody asked questions.” She opened her bag and started to line up out an assortment of bullets on the table. “Ten standard rounds for the three jackets; four junk rounds for one of the pants; two standard rounds for the other pair of pants; and three junk rounds for the knickknacks in their pockets.”

“And two junk for the glasses?”

“That’s right.”

“Twenty-one rounds, and twelve of them are standard.” Sander said, impressed. “And the shirts?”

“Oh, you can’t tell?” Kiara said with a grin, “I traded those bloody rags for a new shirt for myself. You like? Plus, two junks I spent on myself.”

Sander grunted unhappily, but he knew that she could disappear at any moment. He had seen people with greater loyalty abandon or betray their group. He could only assume she told him the truth, but kept his suspicions high.

“That reminds me,” Kiara said. She pulled out a fresh packet of cigarettes from her bag and tossed it to Ash. “As promised, dude.”

Ash’s body shook with a sudden rush of nicotine cravings. He knocked open the packet, pulled out a cigarette, and pressed it between his lips. The sensation, foreign to him, but feeling like home in Casper’s body, calmed him. He summoned his lighter and lit.

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“People normally say thank you.”

“Thanks,” Ash muttered through an exhalation of smoke. A glimmer of serenity moved through him.

Kiara rolled her eyes. “And, you?” Kiara asked to Sander.

“The hide was easier to sell than the antlers, but I got them both sold for a total of twelve junk. I didn’t manage to sell all of the belts we peeled off the Chain Gangers, but I sold one for two standards.” Sander placed his earnings on the table.

“So what now?” Ash asked. He didn’t really care about these financial overviews. He only wanted to get back home. Pretending that they were a happy little family, scrimping out a life together, disgusted him.

“I know what I’ going to do,” Kiara said, laying down on her cot. She folded her hands over her head. “I’m going to get a nice hair cut, a good hot shower, and a good meal to eat.”

“I might get a shave myself,” Sander said, thinking out loud and touching his scraggily beard.

“Enough!” Ash shouted. “This is stupid! Is this your plan? You’re just going to wait out this world, letting people die? Why wait for someone on the outside? No one cares about you out there! You said as much. You’re never going to get a new body. So, why don’t you go and do something!?”

Kiara jolted from the cot. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Sander said. He put out his hand, trying to settle her reaction. Her turned back to Ash. “It’s complicated, kid.”

“It’s not! You haven’t tried! You just bummed around this wasteland for five years, taking your fill of false pleasures.”

“You don’t think I know, kid?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Kiara asked, with rising irritance.

“Not your concern,” Sander responded brusquely.

“It definitely is,” Kiara snapped back. “Am I part of this team, or what?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Ash said into the air. “None of this matters! I got worked up over all these deaths and none of this is even real. You’re not real! None of this is real!”

“I’m not real?” Kiara stood from the cot.

“Yeah, you’re not real. You don’t exist. You’re nothing.”

Kiara slapped him across the face. The cigarette in his mouth flew onto the floor.

“Does that not exist enough for you?” Kiara said angrily. “You guys are on your own.” She snatched her bag from the ground and started to shovel bullets into it. A few rounds of ammunition rolled off the table and onto the floor.

“Wait!” Sander exclaimed, grabbing her wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” Kiara pulled away from his hands. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“I’ll explain.”

“I don’t want your explanations.” Kiara yanked her boots onto her feet. She grabbed her revolver and thrusted it into her bag. She made her way to the door -- bag on her shoulder and her shotgun in hand. She looked at both of them, but said nothing.

She left.

“You happy, kid?”

Ash picked his cigarette from the ground, brushed it, and placed back into his mouth. He kept quiet.

Sander moved to the door and looked down the hallway. He seemed torn between chasing after Kiara and staying with Ash. He closed the door and sighed.

“First, you can’t go spouting your mouth like that. Second, you need to adjust to this new reality. You might not like it, but, honestly, it will eventually replace what you think is real. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.”

Ash let a thin trail of smoke leave the sides of his mouth.

“I’m going back,” Ash said after a pause. He spoke with a subdued tone, free of emotion.

“And how are you going to do that? And, if you are going to do that, how are you going to do it without your allies? Kiara’s gone now -- with a chunk of our funds, no less -- and I’m peeved myself. I should let you struggle out of this reality by yourself.”

“None of this is real. There are no consequences.” Ash exhaled a plume of smoke. He pensively looked at the snub of his cigarette. He flicked it against the door. As far as he was concerned, he lived in a video game. He had forgotten that little bit of information with all the chaos of the last few days. He needed to distance himself from the false sensations of his surroundings. He didn’t need to live in fear.

“Are you daft? Did you not see Kiara storm out? There are consequences to everything.”

“We’re just brains in a jar,” Ash stood up. “Not even that.” In his heart, he decided he would take more risks. And if he died? Well, what did that matter? He already died once.

Like Kiara, Ash began to pack his things.

“None of this matters,” he said quietly.

“It’s the exact opposite, kid.” Sander ran his fingers through his grey hair. “Everything matters. I know it seems like a game, but there are consequences. They might only be personal consequences, but there are consequences.”

Ash shrugged, a mannerism he picked up from Sander.

“I’m going to find a way out of this simulation. I’m going to make contact with the world that I once knew.” Ash closed his canvas bag, having placed all of his possessions inside of it. He slung the bolt-action rifle across his chest, and carried the submachine gun loosely in his right hand.

He bent over the table and picked out a few 9mm rounds and what seemed to him a .303 for his rifle.

“You can have the rest,” Ash said.

“Stop! You’re not going out.” Sander used his body to block the door.

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re not my parent. Get out of the way,” Ash said. His voice grew harsh.

“I’m not letting you leave while you’re like this. Eat the rest of the fries, the rabbit. Have a nap or just sleep straight through ‘til tomorrow. Just don’t leave like this.”

“Get out of my way, or I’ll make you.”

Sander scoffed at the threat. “You don’t know how to handle a threat, kid.”

Ash pressed the submachine gun into Sander’s abdomen.

“Out of the way,” Ash said. He stressed every single word as he said them.

Sander raised his eyebrow incredulously. “You are willing to shoot me, eh? Fine, the world is yours.” Sander stepped out of the way.

Ash flung open the door and walked down the corridor.

He would find a way back home.